They Call Me Wildcat
by Angkeats
Summary: Tattooed Troy rides his bike into a Southern town, lost on his way home from war. Gabriella is a bar tender with grit and something Troy didn't expect- understanding. Slowly she begins to heal him and then he has to say good bye...  **one shot**
1. Cuddle Buddies

In dedication to our armed forces.

**They call me Wildcat**

"Nice tattoo."

Troy looked up under his lashes at the bar-woman, where he had previously been staring into his whiskey glass.

"Thanks," he acknowledged her observation of the brand-new Celtic band he had etched on his upper arm- which was just visible below the line of his t-shirt sleeve now ridden up where his forearms touched the wooden bar leaving his new body art visible. "It's new." He added a few seconds later.

She was kinda tall, he noted. And had long, raven wavy hair. Her eyes were a curious colour but he likened it to a mixture of topaz and honey. She had on a tight black top that scooped in the neck to show off some impressive breasts and he hadn't missed the way she paraded her assets as she worked the bar. Obviously a seasoned bar-hand he mused. And somehow she had taken a look at all of the guys here drinking themselves into memory-loss and had chosen him to speak to.

He tipped his head at that, still surveying her figure.

"Are you wanting to be left alone?" She pursed her lips and cocked a brow simultaneously.

He pulled himself back, straightening up as he sighed softly, his frown evident across his brow as he thought about her question.

"Not really. Just wondering where to go next." He admitted.

"Ah…" her eyes sparkled and he found his mouth curling up at the edges.

"Lost Biker Syndrome," she deduced, nodding to his discarded leather jacket beside him on the bar.

"Lost Biker Syndrome?" He squinted at her.

"Sure," she shrugged. "Bikers have this thing where they really wanna be on the road, but actually they're just looking for something. Looking for a place to call home, I guess."

Troy smirked at her accurate depiction. "You sound like you know a lot of bikers."

She smirked back. "Nope. I am one."

/

"Hey, darlin'"

The loud, drunken call of another patron brought Gabriella from her conversation with the handsome lone stranger at the bar.

She almost hadn't approached him- he'd been so deep in his own thoughts she almost felt rude to, but now that she had witnessed his blue, blue eyes and won his slow, sexy grin, she didn't regret it one bit.

He'd been sitting there for a couple of hours, slowly working his way through his whiskeys; his cropped conker-brown hair and muscled form a pleasing sight from the usual clients they attracted. Sure, the odd biker-dude came through to tickle her fancy but mostly she was used to seeing guys she wouldn't even dream of dating lining up for their spirits.

"Who you callin' darlin'?" She asked back with her usual warm humour as she attended the call.

"You, darlin'" the man drawled, his eyes going over her figure salaciously. "Wanna come have a roll in my camper-van later?" he added.

Gabriella pressed her lips in to stop her laugh. "Mm, not really, but thanks for the offer," she returned, handing his drink over, taking his cash to turn back to the till for his change.

"Gabriella! Break time!" George O. Davidson called down the bar, signalling her chance to escape the jungle for a few short minutes while she enjoyed a cigarette out back.

"Ok I'm on it!" She called back, taking off her small waist apron as she strode down the bar for the exit.

"Hey," a voice caught her attention and she looked round, seeing the tattooed lovely squinting at her.

"Hey, yourself," she curved a smile at him.

He blinked, momentarily bemused. "Where you goin'?"

"For a smoke. Wanna come?"

He paused, looked to his drink. "Sure, why the hell not?"

/

The Southern air was cold, cold enough to create smokes in their breaths without the cigarette Gabriella had lit up. She sat on the step out back; he sat on an abandoned truck tyre, looking all dangerous in his leather jacket with those blue eyes and dark lashes clashing.

"So…" She offered, blowing out an exhaled breath of her cigarette.

"You call this home?" He asked in the darkness, wondering.

She shrugged again, meeting his gaze. "Kinda. It's home for now."

"You still ride?"

"When I can…When I get the urge to," she added and he smiled in agreement.

"I never lost the urge, yet," he shared.

"What are you running from?"

Her question was unexpected. He'd never met anyone so intuitive before. Anyone so intriguing.

"I wish I knew."

She took a drag on her cigarette, licked her lips. "It'll come."

He pursed his lips. "You wanna go for a ride?"

She looked up again, smiling slowly. "Are you hitting on me?"

"What if I am?"

"You're leaving tomorrow…"

"Maybe not tomorrow," he shrugged.

"Oh, you're gonna wait until I give out and _then _you're gonna leave…" she nodded to herself.

"I'm just asking you to ride with me," he argued, his voice husky and soft.

Gabriella blinked. Maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe he _didn't _want to get into her pants, she mused.

"I finish at 2."

/

2am and _riding_, god it had been so long since she had done this, Gabriella sighed out happily as she clutched onto Troy's strong body and let the cold night air whip around her as she whooped internally at the rush she felt being able to do this again.

Troy was fast. Faster than she was comfortable with but he guided them perfectly around the curves of the road, through the dark night of possibility.

What was his story anyway? What did he want?

She didn't much care and she wondered if she should- she wondered if there was something wrong with her for wanting to enjoy this moment without asking questions.

He had a strong body. Her tight grip around his waist proved that and she could feel the movement of his muscles as he turned the bike this way and that; his body coping with the force of gravity; strong and hard against hers.

She missed riding with a partner; she missed the press of her breasts to the back of a man. She missed wrapping her thighs around her partner's and holding on tight like this until they stopped for air.

She didn't mind that she didn't have it. She worked at the bar at night and slept during the day and played poole and cards with her gang of boy buddies. But god, this was thrilling her deep inside. _This _was in her blood and she couldn't deny it.

Soon they were slowing down, Troy pulling up on the look-out near the city where he pulled off his helmet to appreciate the view of sparkling lights below. He ran a hand through his short hair, looked over his shoulder.

"You still with me?"

"You bet'cha," she swung her leg over to wander toward the barrier, climbing over the short fence to sit on it and contemplate.

She looked over her shoulder to Troy, seeing him looking out on the same view. "You coming over?"

Troy dismounted his machine and stretched, his face wincing in pain and she frowned a little, wondering what was hurting him.

"Bike injury?" She enquired, bringing his startled gaze to hers.

"War injury." He husked as he sat beside her, looking over for her reaction.

Gabriella frowned. "You've been to war?"

"Yeah…" he sighed out, looking to the distance.

"That's what you're running from," she realised.

"I guess."

He didn't want to talk about it and she respected that. She knew what it felt like to have secrets- to have memories that didn't ought to be shared. She knew only too well. So she didn't ask. And he didn't tell, they just sat there and listened to the wind until it got cold enough to move.

"Can I take you home?" He asked.

"Depends what you want to do with me once we get there," she teased him of his phrasing.

"I mean I'll drop you home," he amended.

"Oh," she pouted playfully. "No rolling in the hay tonight?"

"You have hay?" he asked, making her laugh.

"It just seems to be what all the boys do round these parts," she commented, standing up.

"I'm not from these parts," he reminded her.

"Don't we know it."

/

"Thanks for the ride," Gabriella handed back the borrowed helmet Troy had given her.

"What's your name?" He asked as he took his helmet off, too.

"_Now _you ask?" She arched her brow.

He shrugged.

"It's Gabriella."

"What you doin' tomorrow night, Gabriella?" He asked next, his eyes smiling.

She pursed her lips. "Washing my hair."

/

"Nice tattoo."

Troy turned from counting out his dimes at the till of the One Stop Shop and caught the warm gaze of Gabriella staring back.

He blinked. She was referring to the sword inked down the back of his neck. The one that preceded the huge arc angel that adorned his shoulders.

"Do you have a thing for tattoos or something?"

She didn't speak, just curved a smile and stepped up to the desk to pay for her goods, her feline eyes swiping up to meet his.

"You're still in town then," she said next, not really asking, and then turning to bag her goods, smiling at the cashier and thanking them.

"I thought I might go to a bar tonight," he explained.

"I know a good one…"

"So do I," he smirked back.

"You should come by, later," she suggested.

"Why, are you working?"

"Nope. Playing poole."

"And then washing your hair."

She smiled up at him as they headed for the exit. "A girl has to look demure."

Troy doubted Gabriella could even attempt to look demure in her outfit which consisted of a black boned bodice top and tight, tight jeans, her buckled knee high boots completing the dark look.

"Nice try," he conceded.

"Are you trying to say something?" She looked over her shoulder as he stopped and she went a few steps ahead.

His gaze swept over her, lingering, hungry. His eyes sparkled with something she couldn't put her finger on. "Yeah, you look amazing."

Her brows rose in surprise. "Come by later. I'll show you how to shoot poole."

"Sure. I look forward to it."

/

Gabriella was something else. She knew the exact effect her long, lean but curved body had on every man in the poole hall and she revelled in it. He could tell because her eyes were bright and her movements slow and deliberate.

Not one of the gang of men there had even tried lay a hand on her and that surprised him too. She was obviously in a minority here- he couldn't see many other girls here let alone any who could equal her beauty, but she handled herself. They all knew the boundaries.

Something in him wanted to curve his own body around hers protectively and shoot the damn poole game with her; but he fought the urge, wondering if she would even look at him in that way; or whether she was already taken by another.

None of the guys here seemed to lay claim on her- she hadn't told him she was taken- so he held inner hope that he might be lucky enough to have a real go at dating her- if she let him.

"You gonna play or what?" She thrust her cue at him and he looked up, surprised.

"Me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna teach you remember?"

"I have twenty guys looking at me like they're gonna break my legs when I stand up; I'm thinking this is a bad idea…"

Gabriella smiled, rolling her eyes. "Ignore them. They're like my brothers. They're just jealous that I didn't show them how to play…"

"And yet I'm the lucky one…" Troy murmured as he rose slowly and nodded to the guys surrounding the table. "Gentlemen."

"Who's the pretty boy?" One particularly tall and bulky 'friend' of Gabriella's asked.

"Oh, Mike," she swiped his arm playfully. "Don't scare him off already."

"I'm Troy," he held out his hand to the larger man and met his gaze.

"War hero, huh?" Mike asked and Troy jerked back from their hand contact.

"Ho-"

"I see it," the man said, cutting Troy off from his question as to how he knew. "In your eyes," he added. "I know it."

Troy blinked, nodding vaguely. "I'm sorry, man."

"She's food for the soul," The man said of Gabriella, who had her backside hitched up on the table, smiling at him seductively from behind the man-mountain.

Troy smiled a little. "I need to stick around, huh?"

"I'm Mike."

"Troy."

"Look, she don't get many nice boys coming by…" Mike said right as he went to move off.

"I can't promise that I am," Troy mused with a brow lift.

"Just don't break her heart. We already had one of them round here," Mike warned.

"And don't tell me, he didn't get out alive?" Troy guessed.

"Nope. And I didn't even touch him, it was all Wildcat's doing," Mike explained, smiling over at the beautiful woman behind him, thereby releasing Troy from their conversation.

"They call you Wildcat?" Troy asked as he came over toward the beauty waiting for him.

She shrugged. "I'm tame, I promise."

"I somehow doubt that," he raised his brows and positioned to shoot; breaking the neat triangle of balls she had set up.

"You play." She sidled up next to him and brushed his arm.

He looked down. "A little."

Her lips pursed, her eyes lit up and she twisted so that her breasts pressed into his muscled bicep. "Game on,_ Troy_."

/

He had no chance. She was a professional poole-shark or a temptress or maybe both he mused as he swilled the remains of his fifth whiskey around the bottom of the glass and contemplated his next move.

He didn't have to ponder for long; she came through the crowd, a shot glass in each hand filled with destructive spirits.

"Here," she handed one to him and tipped her head back to swallow her own measure.

"That's good," she smiled in satisfaction and Troy sank his own shot, the burn of the vodka drowning out the burn in his groin as he watched her slowly unwind with each measure of alcohol she had.

She went out of focus, the light creating a strange halo around her that beguiled him.

His blurry eyes squinted to sharpen her image. "Who _are_ you?"

"Gabriella." She smiled bemusedly. "How much have you had?"

"No I mean-".

"Wanna dance, _Troy_?" She challenged.

Troy swayed. "I don't think I can even walk right now…"

"You are pretty tanked," Gabriella noted affectionately.

"I like it," he defended slurrily, closing his eyes.

"Whoa, soldier," she grasped his t-shirt with both hands, preventing him from falling, and then manoeuvred him to a stool. "Easy there."

Troy smiled and made a grasp for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her hips close to his, between his open thighs. "You smell nice…"

Gabriella chuckled and looked down on him, bracing his forearms with her hands as she tried to break his hold. "We can cuddle later, let's find you a bed," Gabriella suggested, looking around for help.

In the end, Mike carried him, over his shoulder like a fireman and Hogg, the poole bar owner, agreed to let Troy stay the night- but only if Gabriella stayed with him. He trusted her, he said, not some pretty boy from 'god knew where'.

"Pretty boy from god knows where, huh?" She murmured to the back of the fast-sleeping body laying on the single bed- of which there were two in the room.

"Annie," he breathed out, making her frown.

_Who in the hell was Annie?_

/

"Who's Annie?"

It was morning. And too bright, Troy conceded as the sun broke through the clouds and made its way through the blinds of Hogg's Poole bar while they sat and ate breakfast- breakfast he was having trouble stomaching right now.

He frowned at Gabriella' question. "Where did hear that name?"

"From you, when you were sleeping." Gabriella shared, tearing off bread and buttering it with enthusiasm he wished he shared.

"She…" He paused, hiding his eyes. "She's my ex."

"Oh," Gabriella chewed and flicked her gaze over him. "Baggage."

He lifted his eyes to her. "Actually she's the reason I joined the army in the first place."

Gabriella considered him. Apart from his hangover, apart from his reticence to share anything private, apart from the way he sat there and she couldn't guess if he liked her or not, he was kinda attractive. He was built; his eyes piercing. He wasn't like anyone she had met before. And somewhere, deep down, she wanted to ease the pain that emanated from his soulful eyes.

"Ouch," she whispered of his obvious pain. A pain she didn't know how old or new it was; a pain she didn't know how deep it ran.

"I don't even know why I said her name…"

"You must miss her," Gabriella shrugged.

He squinted, his bulky shoulders curling in a little. "I miss having someone to come home to."

"I didn't think you had a home."

"I did. A long time ago."

"So you need a new cuddle-buddy?" She wondered, lightening the tone, to which he smiled gratefully while rolling his eyes.

"I guess that's one way of putting it."

"I'll do it." She shrugged easily, leaning back in her seat nonchalantly.

"What?"

"I said I'll do it."

"Wait," he shook his head. "You told me you didn't want me to…that you…" He struggled for words.

"Oh, Romeo, I'm not talking about sex." She laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"You haven't, that's not what I-"

"I just thought we could hang out- I could keep you company. Until the next one comes along."

"The next one?" He questioned confusedly.

"The next Annie." She explained.

"Do you have a …next one?" He wondered, his face struck with half-awe, half disgust.

"Not right now," she smiled. "I'm in-between next ones."

"Right…"

"Look, stop looking so confused and just take it. We both get something out of it right?"

"What do you get?" He checked.

She pursed her mouth. "A cuddle buddy."

"What do I get?"

"The same."

"The same…" He repeated vacantly, wondering if her crazy suggestion just might work. Keep each other company until one of them found a partner. No sex, no complications. Just friends. It was a great plan. It was foolproof.

What could possibly go wrong?

/

"So how does this 'cuddle buddy' stuff work?"

He was sitting back on his favoured stool, waiting for her to serve the rest of the patrons before she could give him her full attention. Her attention-grabbing outfit meant it was a busy night and so far it had been hard to garner her gaze.

"Like a fuck buddy, but no fucking." She shrugged.

"Which leaves…"

"You call me up when you're lonely; I call you when I need a ride…" She suggested.

"So tonight, if I wanted to spend the night with you…"

"I said no fucking." She smiled patiently, lifting her brows.

Troy squinted at her. "I never said anything about fucking. Just me and you and the open road," he tempted.

She tilted her head and considered his proposal.

"All night?"

A shrug. "'Till you wanna sleep."

"And then?"

"And then I might get one of these cuddles you keep going on about…" He joked, his mouth breaking into a rare smile.

Gabriella was surprised at how turned on she was by that flash of his grin. It lit up his whole face and made him handsomer if that were possible.

"Bar!" A patron called for her attention, snapping her gaze away from his; a blue pool of spell-binding pleasure.

She licked her lips, unhurried to go. "I'm in." She said simply before she moved off.

/

"Do you have _another_ tattoo?"

Gabriella gasped as she followed Troy into his motel room and watched him shrug off his leather jacket. His white t-shirt didn't quite hide a pattern on his back.

"Shit, man," he winced, realising she had unearthed another of his designs.

"Was I not meant to see or something?" She puzzled as he turned to face her.

"It's just…" he sighed, running a hand down his face. "It doesn't matter, but you're right, I do have another tattoo."

"How many more?" Her lips curved felinely.

He licked his lips, her gaze drawn to their softness. "Four."

"Four _more?_" She ovalled her mouth. "Wow and I thought I'd seen body art."

"You have any?" He asked.

"You'll have to find out, won't you?" She flirted.

He smiled at that. "I guess I will."

"So where are the others," she passed by him to sit on his bed seeing as he didn't invite her further into the room and he watched her with slow observation.

He loved that a beautiful woman was sitting on his bed, but he knew she was here for company and nothing more. He knew they had a common attraction; but they both seemed happy to play this out- no ties, no commitments.

"I have one on my other arm," he cupped his left bicep, "An eagle."

"Okay…"

"I have one lower on my back- another sword pointing the other way…"

"Nice," she smiled, her eyes lighting with attraction.

"My calf," he came closer, rolling up his jeans to show her this one- a long snake with venomous fangs.

Gabriella lifted her eyes to his and felt her breathing quicken. "One left."

He nodded, sitting beside her. "And this," he turned his wrist to show her a barcode on the inner side where the skin was sensitive. She brushed her thumb over it, almost to test if it still hurt and she looked up, meeting the pain in his eyes.

"It's sore?" She asked.

"Just the memories," he whispered. "It's my regiment mark. My identification."

Her eyes locked with his and she felt his emotions, strong and deep, just from looking in his eyes and she knew he was silently asking her to understand and to stick around while he found some kind of normal.

She'd seen it before- Mike had been the same when he'd quit fighting and come home and he'd taken weeks to even speak to her- let alone to engage and share his thoughts. Even now he wouldn't tell her some stuff and she liked to think they were pretty close.

So she guessed Troy might be the same. Trapped in memories past, unable to move forward but wanting to; trying to. And these guys deserved it, she realised. They deserved a little humanity; a little affection. They fought for their country and came home alive. That was something in itself.

She found herself bear-hugging him, her body twisted and awkward as she half-stood, half-sat and just wrapped her arms around him the best she could, the only way she knew how to try and take away some of that cold loneliness she read in his eyes.

"It's over now, Troy," she told him. "You're home."

He didn't hug her back but that was ok. She pulled back and smiled lopsidedly at him. "Wanna get pizza?"

Troy smiled faintly at her and nodded, surprised by her offer of touch and just a little bit warmed by it, too. When they'd played pool and he'd seen her like that, he'd felt the kick deep down telling him as a man what he wanted to do to her as a woman, but then he'd gone back into his shell and frozen it out.

Now he was reminded why he loved having someone around- why it was worth having someone there. And their little arrangement might just be perfect for him right now, he conceded. It just might be his lifeline.

/

"Show me the eagle," Gabriella demanded softly as she sat cross legged on the bed, surrounded by pizza boxes; facing Troy who rested on the head board with his legs stretched out.

"You and tattoos…" He teased equally softly, rolling up his tee-top sleeve to show her.

"Did it hurt?"

"Wouldn't you know, if you'd had one?" He twinkled back.

"Not there," she smiled wanly.

He hooded his eyes at the thought of where else she might place a tattoo.

"The wings scratched a little," he explained, pressing his thumb against his skin, showing her that the muscles he had built there were solid. A real fighting machine. The sight of his powerful arms both scared her and excited her in the same minute.

"Nice arms, soldier." She flicked her eyes to his.

"Nice…" He twisted his lips, wondering what wouldn't land him in trouble. "Nope I'm not going there," he smiled in defeat.

"You think I have nice what?" She challenged.

"Whatever I say now will just be an anti climax."

"Try me."

"Actually they're more than nice. I wanted to say that you have beautiful eyes."

"Eyes?" She irked her brow and laughed. "Yeah, you're right, that is a little disappointing."

"My second choice was breasts," he added to make her laugh more.

"You shoulda gone with that…"

"Well, it's earned me a slap or two before for saying something like that," he conceded sheepishly.

"Not from me."

"No, obviously…"

"You really think I have nice breasts?" She asked, then melted into giggles again as he caught her eye and they both laughed at his way with words.

Gabriella looked into her cleavage. "I should be more lady-like," she told herself, sitting back on her hands so that her cleavage wasn't quite so prominent. Instead he was afforded a great view of her thighs and lean waist.

"You seem enough like a lady to me."

"Sure, bikes, tattoos, playing poole, working in a men's bar…"

"You think that decides if you're a lady or not?" He smirked.

"No," she smiled mischievously as she leaned up off her hands, moving onto her knees and then straddling his lap, her seductive smile fixed in place. "But this does."

Troy trailed his eyes over her face; fixing on her lips that were budded and open a little; waiting for him to kiss her.

"Most ladylike woman I ever met," he husked, still learning her look, still holding back.

"Do I have to be a total whore and kiss you myself?" She wondered, grasping his face in her hands and pressing soft pressure to his mouth; an action he knew was going to happen, but that radiated warm sparkling pleasure all over his body as she did so.

Just as soon as she had kissed him, she pulled back and smiled at him.

"Not bad, soldier."

/

Troy had had a nightmare. He'd twitched with the turmoil of it, made pained noises and inadvertently woken Gabriella where she had somehow come to share his bed.

She must have just not left, she realised as she noticed she was still fully dressed.

When he'd had his nightmare, she had put her arm across his body and spooned him, hoping she could somehow soothe his violent dream and comfort his agitated body. And deep down, she had loved being able to hold him; it was weird for someone she barely knew. But it was true.

He needed protecting and she wanted to be his protector; such a strange concept to her. She was used to looking after herself, being alone and getting on with it. She wasn't used to this feeling of being needed…of needing someone else, too.

She didn't really need him, she assured herself quietly. But then, she kind of did, too. Because without him to remind her why life was worth living, would she carry on; living in hope? Maybe for a while. Not for long.

So he had come at the right time. She even argued that he'd been sent. With his angel tattoo, blue, blue eyes and handsome good looks; he could pass as one of god's messengers. But she hoped that he wasn't. Because then he wouldn't be real. And she liked the feel of his hard, warm body. She liked the feel of sharing his bed.

"Hey," he whispered in the dark, twisting, encompassing her into his arms as he realised he was being held.

"Hey yourself," she whispered back, comforting herself against him again in their new position.

She felt his lips brush her hair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she smiled as she closed her eyes.

/

"You say one word about my hair and you _will _die."

Troy fought to hide his smile, fought and lost.

"Your hair looks fine."

"Don't even pretend like you mean that," she warned, sitting up on the bed as Troy collected fresh clothes to change into.

"I mean it…it's…perfect," he lost his composure on the last word, grinning at the near-afro proportions of her slept-on curly hair.

"You wait and see how long it takes to get this back to normal, you won't be laughing then..." she promised, rolling her eyes and flopping back onto the bed. "Stupid hair," she muttered as she went.

"It's perfect." He said again as he came by the bed to use the bathroom, surprising Gabriella with his assurance.

Huh, if only he was for real, she noted. And if only she had fresh clothes to put on, too. She snooped into Troy's rucksack and pulled out a t-shirt, finding nothing else of any use in there. No sweats, no shirts. Just tees and jeans. Great.

/

Troy's lazy smile and intent gaze were aimed at her bra-less breasts. She'd decided that it was pointless to wear her cleavage bra under a t-shirt- it always looked funny- and so it had come to this inane staring while they ate.

"Really?" She smiled tightly. "You're gonna do that?"

"Hey, why so grouchy today?" He noted.

"Would _you _want someone staring at your chest?"

"I'm sorry," he flicked his eyes up. "They _are _nice breasts."

"So you keep telling me, can we get over that fact now?" Her cheeks tinged pink.

"Can I hold 'em?" His blue eyes twinkled.

"Wh-at?" she spluttered, floored by his honesty.

"Is it part of the cuddle-buddy deal?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"It's just not. Absolutely not."

"Never?"

"Not likely now," she returned, feeling the tips of her breasts aching with need now he had mentioned touching her.

He nodded sadly. "Ok."

"Well, would you want me to go around holding your…your…balls?" She questioned next, surprisingly haughty for a biker girl.

"Gabriella, are you turned on?" He wondered with a slow grin, thinking he had captured her flushed cheeks and spluttering responses perfectly.

"Don't change the subject!" She argued.

"If you're asking me if I'd like you to hold my balls, then I think we both already know the answer to that…"

"You know what? I give up. Breakfast is over."

"Hey…" He called as she got up and stormed off, a sight he hadn't seen before. A sight that only fuelled his fire.

/

It had been a long time. Maybe months, possibly more than a year, he couldn't quite remember.

All he knew was that the last woman he had made love to was Annie and then she'd been killed. By a drunk driver. Like so many were.

He'd been offered a prostitute in Kosovo and for a few hours, he had considered relieving his natural urges with the vice-girl but he couldn't bring himself to do it. There were too many memories. Too much left unsaid.

And he'd expected the same once he got home.

He'd kind of known he had a problem since Annie passed; but he hadn't worried much until now. Until he looked down on his hard, erect body part and puzzled over why this reaction felt so unconnected to him.

Half of him wanted to go chasing after the raven-haired beauty and pin her to this very bed and fuck her with his hard-on until she quit calling his name. And another part of him- the half that won out- still struggled with feeling emotion, any kind of it, in the wake of his return.

So, he was turned on. Who wouldn't be? A beautiful woman, flirting, dressing in next to nothing, it was any guy's dream come true. Any guy but him. Because his hard, aroused body did not want to be sated. At least _he _didn't want to wrangle Gabriella into bed and brand her. He wanted her friendship. More than anything else.

He just wished she didn't turn him on like this in the mean-time. He wasn't sure he could cope with it. His body's instinct versus his heart. He had a feeling he knew which would win out if they were ever pitched against each other.

And that was the last thing he needed, he mused. A complication.

/

"I brought my overnight bag."

Troy smirked at Gabriella as she plopped into the booth opposite him, throwing down her rucksack beside her.

"That's a big change of heart," he noted. "This morning you hated my guts."

She shrugged. "Maybe I missed you."

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" He asked instead. It may have been two days since he saw her but she was still in the midst of her usual shift by joining him for dinner.

"I work weekends so I get two nights off." She supplied.

"I'm going home." He told her, his voice steady and flat.

"What now? You just got here…"

"I mean, home-home," he explained. "New Orleans."

Gabriella looked up, hurt. "Already?"

"Yeah. I need to."

"But we just…" She bit her tongue before her whiney, needy inner girl came flooding out. "When are you off?"

Troy met her gaze and felt the hurt there, read her unsaid words. "Soon."

"Right." She nodded.

He squinted. "This was always going to be a stop-over," he offered.

"For sure, rider." A sad smile downed her lips where she didn't expect it to.

"You could always come with me…" He offered, seeing her look, not wanting to be the cause of it.

She looked up quickly, then smiled softly. "Who said I was gonna miss you that much?"

"Then you _will_ miss me?" He puzzled.

Her eyes glittered multi-colours as they met his and she was putting on a good front, he could see. But whether he wanted to read more into her expression, or whether he was truly seeing behind her mask, he didn't know; he just knew he wanted her to admit they might have something.

That his running away from this was the right thing to do.

"Look, soldier, I have _plenty _to keep me occupied round here. There'll be another guy like you by in a few days- wanting the same thing, asking me to keep him company…"

Troy frowned at that thought. He kind of didn't want her to be occupied by another guy. He kind of wanted her to ride out of this town with him and start over in New Orleans.

"Ride with me tonight?" He asked.

"Try and stop me," she winked.

/

She rode this time. He gave her the keys after she'd found him and gate-crashed his lonely dinner. He wasn't used to riding behind a woman, letting her take the driving seat but actually, he kinda liked it.

He could wrap his arms all the way around her waist and taste her hair. He could feel her curves and imagine some more than that as she glided the bike along the road. And actually, her ride was a lot smoother, a lot sleeker and somehow more enjoyable because of that.

"Don't move," Gabriella told him as they stopped and she carefully manoeuvred on the bike, finishing up facing him, her calves hooked over his thighs. "Hey," she smiled when she settled.

"Hey yourself," he smiled back, leaning forward to tuck her hair back.

"Why does it feel weird now?" She wondered, tipping her head to his touch.

"Because I'm leaving," he cupped her face.

She pursed her lips, grasping his jacket in her hands to pull him closer. "Right when it just got interesting…"

He let her kiss him. He tilted his head, submitted to her intent and didn't stop her and when their lips closed in; he felt that feeling rise again- the one he wanted to run from.

But the pleasure of the moment over-rode his flight and he found himself wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer; while she wrapped hers around his neck and lost her hands through his cropped hair.

Gabriella moaned and pushed her body forward to be closer, her fingers driving through his hair now as her lips suckered his, demanding more, demanding his strength which he gave by pulling her right into his body.

She squirmed and wriggled in the kiss, breaking them apart, Troy's eyes questioning hers as he caught his breath and loosened his hold on her.

She didn't speak, just unzipped her jacket and went to strip it off. Troy paused her, grasping the jacket gently in his fingers as he searched for words.

"You'll get cold."

"Not if you keep me warm," she smiled felinely.

"I'm leaving in two days…"

"Exactly," she argued with a lift of her brow, leaning back until the handlebars of her bike supported her upper body. "You ever done it on a bike before?"

Laid before him like that, her eyes alight, her body stretched out; he kind of wished he had. She looked amazing and the thrill of keeping balanced while thrusting into her plaint body was tempting; but he really didn't know if he should start this. He really didn't know if he could leave if he did.

"Not like this," he admitted with a dirty husk in his voice.

"Wanna try?" Her eyes sparkled with invitation.

_God, _he wanted to, he whooshed out a breath. So much. And going home after might be harder, but he didn't think he could turn down the offer before him. He didn't think he could forgo this moment and ever forgive himself.

_He just might have to come back,_ he realised as he ran his thumbs up her jacket zipper, slowly spreading the material to bare her torso; clad in another revealing creation.

She smiled felinely back and leaned up to resume their kissing; her jacket soon lost to the ground along with their other clothes bit by bit as they enjoyed the awkwardness of their position with giggles and patient pauses.

Soon, though he was kissing her with tender need. Deep, long kisses that stirred deep inside, assisted by thumbing brushes, full handed strokes and the rubbing of his body to hers.

She let out a moan as she writhed for him and he watched her, taking a mental snap shot of this moment- her hands in her hair, her body arching for his; her eyes hungry for him. He let his every male urge take over; his instincts rule him as he rolled on his protection and filled her, driving his hands up her body with firm but loving pressure, encompassing her breasts when he reached them.

"Gabriella," he whispered, beyond his control, beyond his limit. God, it had been too long, too long since he'd filled a woman this way, too long since he'd touched and licked and been kissed in return. Too long since he'd allowed every memory, every shadow to fade and allow a ray of light through and now Gabriella's sunshine was streaming; blinding him completely.

"Gabriella, you're beautiful," he sighed, feeling his peak nearing, hearing her own cries, hearing his name panted from her lips.

He joined them, again and again, watched his body sink into hers and thrust harder as his climax hit; taking them both over the edge of their desire. His lungs were tight as he fought air in and he quickly realised how cold it was and picked up Gabriella's limp body to cuddle to his warmer one.

"I told you it would be cold," he panted, his heart rate slowing.

Gabriella wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled, cuddling him back.

"But it was _so _worth it," she pulled back and stroked his hair.

He smiled slowly. "You might be right about that."

"But you're right, it's freezing!" She quickly hopped off her stallion and dressed, letting him wrap her up in his arms as they just sat quietly for a while after; her back to his chest.

"Can I play poole with you one more time before I go?" He husked into her ear, nuzzling her neck.

"We have one night."

"One night is all we need," he assured, tightening his arms around her as she snuggled back.

"What made you want to go back?" Gabriella wondered.

Troy sighed. "You. You made me realise I have to face my demons."

"Aren't your demons in Kosovo?" She wondered.

He let out a short chuckle. "I thought so too. But my real fear is going back. Having to face those people with blood on my hands."

"Blood of an enemy you fought to keep them alive."

"It's words like that that make me feel it's even possible."

"Well you stumbled into the right bar, soldier." She teased.

"I stumbled hard," he mused to the night sky. "Maybe even fell."

/

"You've gotta take smokes for the open road…"

Gabriella lifted her half-started pack and smiled.

Troy looked up at her, waking in a real bed bedside her this morning, after their poole game, after their last night together in bed.

He was on his front and he pushed onto his forearms.

"Anything else I need to know?"

"You have nice tattoos," she smiled felinely, tracing the arc angel on his back with her fingertip.

"You like that one?"

"I love it."

"Most people think it's too big. Some say it's sad."

"He's not sad. He's an arc angel- protector of earth," she described.

Troy twisted over to play with her hair. "I never did find yours."

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes.

"Show me…"

"Troy, you already saw," she pushed gently against his foreboding weight.

"Remind me," he husked in her ear.

"Oh, aright," she sighed, lifting her knee, turning her leg out to reveal the tiny dove on the inside of her delicate thigh- an area he had already investigated fully with his mouth.

"Mm, nice tattoo," he teased, rolling over with her to pin her down just as he had imagined doing that first time. She grasped his tags that nestled between them- always present, always reminding her of his past.

"And now it's time to say goodbye," she reminded him, hugging her arms around his shoulders for comfort, but not wanting to make love right now.

Troy stiffened in her arms. "I have you to thank for so much…"

"Well, you don't need to," she shrugged easily.

"I'm going to miss you, Wildcat," he teased of her nickname from her friends.

She ran her fingers into his hair. "You'll forget me once you're home."

"I'll remember you, always."

"So will I," she admitted. _Forever is a long time._

/

"You miss this one, don't you?" Mike asked.

Gabriella painted a smile on her face, even though he was right. "No more than usual."

"Yes, more than usual," Mike observed. "You let him in, too."

"I know, I shouldn't do that, he was just passing through…" she sighed.

"He's gonna remember you," her friend assured. "He'll come back."

"No, he won't. He's home now, where he belongs."

"Gabriella, did you fall for this one?" Mike touched her shoulder.

"No, of course not. I can't fall in love, can I?" She asked wryly.

"But you're sad…you're never sad…"

"This time it hurt, Mike. It never hurt before, saying goodbye," she admitted then and he held out his arms for her to hug him.

"I'm sorry, angel." He murmured as she held him round the middle.

"There's a new guy coming tomorrow, we have to get ready." She reminded him.

"I know. Just take your time."

"Listen, don't tell George, okay?" she begged. "I just want to deal with this alone."

"Okay," Mike nodded, frowning concernedly.

"Thank you. I'm going for a ride, don't wait up."

/

Troy rolled up his bike in front of the exact same bar where he had met Gabriella.

He'd ridden the same roads; passed through the same town and as he kicked down the resting stand and wiped a hand over his stubble bristles, he sighed out wondering if he was completely crazy to be coming back here hoping she was waiting for him.

Her words; her support, they were what turned it around for him and got him through that hard part of coming home. And although he'd had to face his past, his friends and his family, he'd had an inexplicable urge to come back and thank her.

He'd had an urge to find her and this time not to let her go.

It had been two months already and he had missed her. Maybe more than he thought he would. Back home, life could have erased her memory and he could have found himself getting back in the groove and he almost had.

Until he had seen that Wildcats emblem, on a jacket in the local sports memorabilia store. And then it had all come flooding back. Her unique brand of counselling; her hair. The way she abandoned herself to him on her bike that night.

As he sat and squinted at the old barn, he just hoped he wasn't too late.

/

"Hey, barman," he called to the young-looking bar-hand; one who obviously didn't share Gabriella's experience serving drinks.

"Hey man, what can I get you?"

"I'm looking for Gabriella, does she still work here?"

"Gabriella?" The guy frowned. "Never heard of her."

"She worked here two months ago…are you new?"

"No, I've worked here for a year now," the man frowned. "But I don't remember us having any girls before…"

"Can you check with George for me?" Troy had his own frown to mar his features as his heart pounded wildly in his chest.

"Who's George?"

"The owner…" Troy trailed off, wondering why none of this was making sense to the man before him. "George O. Davidson."

"George O. Davidson?" The young man repeated. "There's no-one here with that name…"

Troy frowned, then a sudden, horrifying though struck him.

"Who do they call Wildcat?" He asked.

"Wildcat?" The boy pondered, and then caught his thought. "Oh, I know- that's the girl from East High who came off a motorcycle two years back. She was a beautiful girl, real promise. She was a cheerleader then- for the basketball team at the school- East High Wildcats."

His heartbeat rattled in his chest as a shocking realisation hit him.

"The girl, she died?" Troy checked.

"Yeah, her name was Gabriella. She's a legend in these parts now."

_She was a legend.. What did that mean?_

"_They call her Wildcat,_" he murmured to himself, puzzling for answers. "She cheered for the team."

"Hey, buddy, are you okay?" The barman asked.

"I'm fine," Troy nodded shortly and staggered out, although he knew he wasn't. Because from everything he had just been told, that meant Gabriella wasn't coming back. She'd filled him with light and saved his soul; when he must have been laying in the dessert hanging on to life by a thread and she had brought him back- right back home.

Only he would never see her again…until he too left this earth. And for that he bowed his head and prayed. He prayed that her sadness would end, because he had felt it. He prayed her pain was easier until they were reunited and most of all he prayed that she would know that he had loved her, even in those short days they had met.

And somebody heard. Because the next day when Gabriella woke up to meet her next drive-through, her pain was gone and her sadness eased. And she smiled with the warmth of knowing someone, somewhere loved her.


	2. Author Note

Author Note

Just a quickie for those of you who asked:

This is a one shot

And, Gabi is an Angel.


End file.
